


wishful thinking

by rinnosgen



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28329819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnosgen/pseuds/rinnosgen
Summary: “Do you like Christmas?”
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	wishful thinking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daydreaming_out_loud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreaming_out_loud/gifts).
  * A translation of [wishful thinking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28028193) by [rinnosgen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnosgen/pseuds/rinnosgen). 



> A Christmas surprise for dear daydreaming_out_loud, who is always very nice and cool to me. Hope you like it :)

It’s Eve’s third time to bump shoulders with some young couple on the street. She apologized under her breath, but apparently they were too drunk to listen. They mumbled something inaudible and squeezed each other, swaying away unstably. She fixed the strap of her handbag, one hand in the pocket of her down coat, and the other clutched the neck of it, striding under the waves of light and music decorated for Christmas.

The holiday was around a corner, but Eve had no luxury for it. She planned to endure it through alcohol and paper work, as usual.

A few steps later, her phone rang, vibrating in her bag. She stopped at a shining display window. She had a glance at her gloomy reflection on the glass when she was taking out her phone,

An unknown number, Eve picked up the phone.

“Do you like Christmas?” she heard Villanelle ask as she held the phone to her ear.

In these days, whenever Villanelle called, she asked questions about Eve directly. No weaving, no veiling, the conversation began with the purpose of collecting answers. They somehow got to know each other a bit more from different angles, probably. Eve understood none of them could catch the other lying when the talks happened under these circumstances. She however did not care. Villanelle would slip sooner or later, otherwise why Eve could always get her.

Eve laughed dryly. “What do you think?”

“You tell me. I’m not in the mood for playing games,” Villanelle exhaled.

“Bad day?”

“Mmm.”

Villanelle sound somewhat tired. Eve pictured Villanelle in her head that she’s lying on a king size bed in an expensive hotel, her hair she didn’t bother to dry was dripping, her finger was playing with the curls.

“I don’t like Christmas,” Eve said. “Because it seems to be a good reason to be happy.”

“You don’t want a good reason to be happy?”

“I don’t _need_ a good reason to be happy.”

“Because you’re already happy?”

“Because I don’t really feel happy, and it’s unhealthy to force yourself to be happy. It’s tiring and pretentious.”

Villanelle didn’t respond. Eve listened to her slow and calm breath.

“Don’t tell me you’re judging me. You are the last person in the world who has the right to judge me.”

Villanelle chuckled. “I’m not. I’m thinking.”

“Good,” Eve gained a look of herself on the window one last time before she tilted her head, treading off. The strangers who passed her were either a group of people or a pair. She was the only one unaccompanied, walking on the damp stone, all on her own.

“I suppose you’re right, Eve. You should never force yourself to do anything,” Villanelle said quietly. Eve hummed.

“How about you?”

“How about me?”

“Do you like Christmas?” Eve turned aside to avoid a drunk.

“I like the concept of receiving gifts, but the holiday? Hmm, I don’t think so.”

“Of course you like receiving gifts,” Eve beamed. She thought about all the things she’d received from Villanelle, including clothes, perfumes, accessories, and even shampoos. She wore them. Even though Villanelle was not with her, she could feel her stare and touch blooming on her body.

Eve let her loose.

“I remember when I was in the orphanage, the teachers there would prepare gifts for the children. Dolls for girls and cars for boys, something like that.”

“Did you like your gifts?”

“Never. It’s silly of them to assume no girls wanted cars, no boys wanted dolls, or anything else.”

Eve heard the rub of clothing. She imagined Villanelle just sat up in bed, legs crossing, and brows knitting slightly.

“What did you want then?”

“Pencils.” There was a heartbeat before she spoke.

“You wanted pencils?” Eve snorted.

“What?” she sounded a little annoyed. “Are you judging me, Eve?”

“I’m not. Keep talking.”

“I love sharpening them slowly with a cutter. I could do this for an hour when I was small. I liked seeing them sharp and pointy.”

“Was that some kind of fetish?”

“Maybe. That would have explained so many things.”

Eve recollected that there was a short description of attacking and wounding a minor with a pencil on Villanelle’s prison record. Perhaps it’s not her first time thrusting a pencil into a human body.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Villanelle asked. Out of instinct, Eve was going to answer her sincerely, and yet she immediately realized that it’s a trick Villanelle played to send her things.

“You know you don’t have to send me anything.”

“But I want to. I like to think of you wearing them,” she lowered her voice. She was being honest, with her tone suggesting something matter-of-coursely. Eve tucked the hair near her cheek behind her ear.

“What are you wearing now?” she asked suddenly. Villanelle tittered.

“If I tell you what I’m wearing, will you tell me yours?” she said, her voice throaty.

“Sure.”

“I’m wearing…” coming from the other side of the phone was a string of rustles. Eve walked faster without noticing.

“A bathrobe and a pair of slippers, both are supplied by the hotel.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it. Eve, what were you expecting?”

“Nothing,” she said. She was not expecting, was she?

“What about you, Eve? Tell me?”

“I’m wearing a dark green down coat with a black turtleneck, grey trousers, and a pair of black leather boots.”

“Whoo, a classic Eve Polastri. Very sexy.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” Villanelle fell quiet out of the blue.

Eve could hear a language which was not English chattering faintly in the background. She portrayed a scene where Villanelle sat alone at the bedside, watching TV. She felt Villanelle wouldn’t turn on all lights in the room, simply had the bedside light on. Her face would be possessed with the twinkling radiance dispersed by the monitor. Her eyes focusing on the screen would blink sleepily. Shortly and easily, she would get bored. Therefore she grabbed her burner phone, and typed in a familiar number. This vision caused Eve’s stomach to twitch mildly.

The portrait would piece together an image absent and hazy. Eve could tell, because it was a shadow she had gotten used to and been with, a taste that lingered on the flat of her tongue every morning when she awoke.

“What have you done today?” Eve started.

“Oh, Eve, you do realize I can’t tell you, yes?” Villanelle said. “But I can tell you that I tried to make it… _holidaying_.”

She giggled, as if she was very proud of it. “Wait until you see it.”

“Was there a Christmas tree involved?”

“I’ll let you fantasize it, Eve, just like what you used to do with me.”

“Who says I’ve ever stopped doing it?” Eve said it too loudly and too abruptly. She forgot to step forwards, pressing a hand on her chest.

Villanelle remained silent, Eve recalled her working throat as she gulped, and her wandering tongue as she wetted her lips. Eve hoped she was doing it. Eve believed she was doing it.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Villanelle said softly after a sigh. Then she hung up.


End file.
